


One Foot on Either Side

by Kila9Nishika



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Gen, Hogwarts years rewritten, REALLY BAD LATIN, Who is Aoife Black?, but to be fair JK's Latin is also terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kila9Nishika/pseuds/Kila9Nishika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blacks make the world change... especially this one. Tiny bit of AU, gradually grows away from canon.</p>
<p>Second chapter is an image.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Foot on Either Side

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER AND WARNING – All points recognizable as being part of the official Harry Potter series do not belong to me, but rather, to JK Rowling and similar associated parties. A further warning – this story has spoilers for books 1-5 in the Harry Potter series, with possible minor spoilers for books 6 and 7. However, books 6 and 7 do not otherwise apply to this story.

**Chapter One – Aoife Black and Harry Damn-His-Name Potter**

Severus Snape was not looking forward to this year’s batch of first years.  With this year’s batch of Longbottom, Patils, Nott, Greengrass and Malfoy, also came _Potter_.

Severus was not looking forward to Potter.  From the hints that Dumbledore had thrown at him, Potter had been brought to be just as insufferable as his _father_.  The _anticipation_ grew even worse when Hagrid returned from Potter’s introduction to the Wizarding World, gushing about “lil’ Harry, jus’ like his parents, he is.”  _Wonderful_.

Therefore, on the night of the Sorting, Severus paid little, if any at all, attention to the other little dunderheads waiting to be Sorted aside from Potter.

_Potter_.  He already looked altogether too much like his excruciatingly arrogant father, with his wild black hair and glasses.  Although – to be certain, James Potter’s glasses had always been wire-rimmed and fancy, while _Harry_ Potter wore thick, chunky glasses that had a great deal of tape holding them together.  Was it some idiotic type of fashion statement?

Severus was so focused, in fact, that he nearly missed the startling name of one of the first children called up to be Sorted.

“Black, Aoife.”

For a moment, Severus’ mind reeled.  A Black!  Was the girl a muggleborn, where the name Black was quite common, or was she the child of one of _the_ Blacks?

Any hope Severus had of Aoife being a muggleborn was promptly destroyed as the said girl swept up the Hall to the stool with the hat.  Her eyes were the Black family storm-grey eyes, her hair was smooth and black, and her cheekbones were as high as any pureblood.  She also moved with an inherent grace not often seen in eleven-year-olds, even pureblooded ones. 

The Sorting Hat had barely brushed Aoife’s head before screaming “SLYTHERIN!”  A faint smile flickered over the girl’s face before she glided – not walked, _glided_ , she moved more gracefully and smoothly than a ghost – to the table of silent, somewhat sullen Slytherins. 

The faint smirk that had disappeared so swiftly caught Severus’ attention, and he focused keenly on the girl.  She might be someone to watch out for.

The Sorting went on, but Severus barely noticed, until “Malfoy, Draco” was Sorted into Slytherin.  Severus winced when Draco seated himself proudly beside Aoife, obviously expecting her to know _exactly_ who he was and to fawn over him because of it.  Aoife flicked a glance at Draco, and then turned rather conspicuously to face the Bloody Baron, murmuring a question to the ghost.  Severus wondered if the girl had Gryffindor tendencies, speaking to the ghost that most teachers feared.

Finally, the name that most of the Hall had been waiting for was spoken.

“Potter, Harry.”

The Potter boy stumbled up to the stool, quite as if his legs did not quite fit under him.  Severus noted absently, in the way that spies often do notice little details, that Potter was nearly a head smaller than the rest of the first years.

Just before Minerva rested the Hat on Potter’s head, Potter removed the chunky glasses, revealing unfocused green eyes that stared rather unnervingly into the distance.

The Sorting Hat sat on Potter’s head for an extraordinarily long period of time.  After approximately ten minutes, the Hat huffed and shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Severus barely managed to keep a sneer off of his face as Potter removed the Hat, replaced his glasses, and murmured something quiet and polite to Minerva McGonagall before stumbling over to the Gryffindor Table.

After the usual senseless speeches and eardrum-destroying “music,” Severus found himself behind the door to the Slytherin Common Room.  It was an unknown but long-lasting tradition of his to watch how the Slytherin first years organized their selves socially and politically before entering; only watching to ensure that no hexes or jinxes were thrown.

Draco Malfoy obviously seemed to have a firm hold over Crabbe and Goyle already, and Theodore Nott seemed content to watch and follow.  The only stumbling block of the boys for Draco came in the form of Blaise Zabini.

The Italian boy frowned behind his dark brown curls when Draco sneered at Tracey Davis for being the daughter of a halfblooded witch.

“You do realize,” Blaise said with a quiet menace behind his words, “That your mother’s mother married your mother’s mother’s half-brother?  Or that the parents of your mother’s cousins were full-blooded siblings?  While muggle blood may be seen by some as a mark of shame, in _Italia_ we view it as a mark of shame to be the grandchild of siblings.”

Draco gaped at the foreign boy, his grey eyes startled at having his supports pulled out from underneath him.  Severus watched with interest, curious to see how the first years would respond to this swift change in upper hand.  Of the girls, if Draco should remain on top, Pansy would become the political leader, being his betrothed.  Greengrass and Davis seemed likely to follow behind, and Bulstrode was as inbred as Crabbe and Goyle.

“And _you_ do realize… that it is _my_ family that you have just degraded so spectacularly?”

All of the focus in the room turned towards the speaker, and the temperature seemed to drop by a couple degrees.  The less subtle upper years were smirking, while the others were merely watchful.  This power struggle could _mean_ something.

Aoife Black surveyed all in the room with icy cold grey eyes that somehow were exponentially more intimidating than the similar grey of her sometime cousin Draco.  A faint smile flickered over her face.

“Although,” she continued, her voice sharp, “I can quite understand you.  My father’s parents _were_ , after all, full-blooded siblings.  The idea of marrying twins together is quite out of date, insane, as well as _Egyptian_.  And _my_ family is certainly not _Egyptian_.  I daresay that it is people like my _dear_ cousin Draco who have given my _lovely_ family such a terrible name.”

Blaise looked as if someone had stepped on him.  Severus was amused to see that quite a few of the upper years were unashamedly eavesdropping, and looked rather frightened of the sharp and cunning eleven year old girl.

Aoife moved from the chair that she had appropriated before the other first years arrived, and swept up to Blaise, patting his shoulder comfortingly.  “Don’t worry Blaise, I don’t blame you.  Cousins like Bellatrix and Draco give my family an overall bad name.  And certainly, I would shudder to be associated with my grandparents, Orion and Walburga.  I mean, there are rumors that they used the Cruciatus Curse on their _heir_.”

Draco’s eyes were flashing now, and his head came up in a pose that Severus groaned internally at.  It was extremely likely that any chance Draco had of controlling Slytherin now was shrinking to nil.  To think that a girl, a _Black_ , would take control of Slytherin the same year that the infernal Potter-Boy-Who-Lived came to Hogwarts!

“How dare you insult me and my family like that?” Draco snapped, throwing back his shoulders and sneering at the dignified-looking girl.  “Besides, my aunt Bellatrix may be in Azkaban, but she was a better person than your father was!  And he is in Azkaban as well!”

The air in the Slytherin Common Room seemed to freeze at that exclamation.  Quite a few people were shocked when Aoife threw back her head and _laughed_.  Severus caught his breath, though; when he saw her eyes flare Killing Curse green as she focused on Draco.

“My _father_ is _dead_ ,” Aoife stated coldly, her voice practically causing icicles to grow from the ceiling.  “My _uncle,_ currently the _Head of Familias Black_ , presently resides in Azkaban, having been tossed in there without a trial.  If I remember correctly, aunt Bellatrix was placed in Azkaban _after_ a trial proving that she had _tortured_ the child of two _purebloods_ , and was _proud of it_!  My father was Regulus Arcturus Black, second son of Orion and Walburga Black, the late heir of Lord Sirius Orion Black.  My mother was Rhiannon Eileen Prince, daughter of Jonathan Abraxtan Prince and Elladora Elizabeth Potter.  My family lines can be traced for fifteen generations; further in every direction than that of the Malfoy family.  Do not accuse without proof, dear cousin.  It will get you killed.”

After a pregnant pause, the faint smile that Severus could already tell preceded a killing flickered over the girl’s face.  “Besides,” Aoife said, her eyes glinting, “You are a Slytherin, Draco.  Gryffindor impressions are _so_ last millennium.  Do not act impulsive – it does not become you.”

With that last remark, the imposing preteen swept from the common room, heading for the girls’ dorms without a second glance.  Severus sagged from behind the door.  Between the Black girl, the Potter menace, and Quirrel, this year was going to drain him of his remaining years of life.

Hours later, long after curfew, in the Gryffindor dorms, Harry Potter lay in his bed, wide awake.  His green eyes stared at something that only he could see, unfocused and yet somehow focused at the same time.

In the Slytherin first year girls’ dorms, Aoife Black slipped out of bed.  Swiftly and easily, she fitted her pillows in her bed so that it seemed to have a person sleeping in it.  A careless flick of her wand and a careful pronunciation of Latin, and a small girl with a black braid seemed to be sleeping in the bed.  Another flick and murmur, and a pair of simple, yet powerful wards flickered into existence around the bed.  With a sharp nod at the efficiency, Aoife Black glowed blue, and vanished.

In the Gryffindor first year boys’ dorms, Harry Potter glowed blue, smiled, and shut his eyes.  Within minutes, he was asleep, his alarm set for six o’clock, two full hours before breakfast.

**Chapter Two – To Be a Slytherin**

The year passed by with plenty of headaches.  Severus had spent a good deal of type keeping a discreet eye on Aoife Black as well as Harry The-Boy-Who-Lives-To-Blow-Up-Cauldrons Potter. 

Potter and his _wonderful_ friends had gotten through the stupid enchantments that Dumbledore had _insisted_ would be enough to keep the Dark Lord away from the Philosopher’s Stone.  Severus honestly didn’t know which of the Terrible Trio was worse, Harry Bloody Potter, Ronald Thick-as-Slug-Sludge Weasley, or Hermione I-Must-Ensure-Everyone-Knows-How-Smart-I-Am Granger.  They had even gotten _points_ for their ill advised “ _adventure_.”

On the flip side, Severus was seriously considering making Aoife Black his apprentice.  Not only did she rule the Slytherins – _including_ the older years – but she also was Slytherin enough that she allowed Draco to be the target of the other houses.  From outside Slytherin House, Draco seemed to rule, and Aoife barely existed aside from on the periphery of the class.

Oddly, despite her way of somehow barely being noticed, Aoife had some of the best grades in her year.  She was slightly behind Potter in DADA, and Longbottom in Herbology, but in all other classes, she was at the top of the grade curve with the rest of the students in the class kilometers behind her.

The school year of 1992-1993 started… oddly.  Rather than the first years being taken under the wing of the prefects (and the Head Girl, who happened to be a Slytherin this year,) Aoife Black, a _second year_ , took control of the eleven year old snakes.  Not only did Aoife take them under her wing, but she was sure to drill into their tiny minds that she was only to be noticed _inside_ the Common Room.  It was quite a feat.

Severus was certain, actually, that nobody outside of Slytherin House even remembered that Aoife Black existed.  She was the epitome of Slytherin, with only one thing that made her lose her temper.  Draco Lucien Malfoy.

It was well known to the entire Slytherin House that Aoife Black hated Draco Malfoy.  Although she claimed that hatred was for Gryffindors, and that she merely was _exceedingly disgusted_ in Draco, most of the more linguistically-challenged Slytherins translated that as “hated.”

Aoife’s “exceeding disgust” was proven powerful, that Halloween, when Draco made the mistake of shouting “you’ll be next, Mudbloods!” to the entire assembled school.  She waited, as a proper pureblood did, until they were in the privacy of the Slytherin Common Room, and then she struck.

“Have you lost your _mind_?”  Quite unlike when most people lost their tempers, Aoife’s voice lowered to a mere whisper.  But that venomous whisper was more powerful than a Gryffindor’s roar.  “Did you forget your _sanity_ at your Manor over the summer holidays?  Has your intellect rotted out from _sheer lack of use_?!”

Draco stared at Aoife.  “What?”

Aoife let out a hiss of anger that sounded alarmingly like Parseltongue, and threw herself to her feet.  “You – Are – A – Slytherin!  That means that you act with _cunning and intelligence!_   Shouting that out to the entire school is the equivalent of shouting ‘ _I know what’s going on!_ ’  Now everyone is going to be attacking the Slytherin House because – of – YOU!”

Draco flinched away from the furious twelve-year-old, and the other students occupying the room leaned away from the irate girl.  Her eyes were sparking silver, and her hair was flowing around her shoulders in a way that called to mind an avenging demon.

“You need to _grow up!_ ”  Aoife hissed, “How do you expect to be a proper Slytherin when you become a flaming _Gryffindor_ when under stress?!!”

A few Slytherins gasped at her blatant insult.  Aoife sighed, and turned away.  “Honestly, I’m beginning to believe it’s a hopeless cause!  What next, Polyjuiced Gryffindors in the Common Room?”  Somehow, Aoife managed to make her indignant exit suck all of the air out of the Slytherin Common Room.

Although Severus had promised himself many times to keep an eye on Aoife Black, he did so again, wondering why it was so difficult to focus on the unique girl.

The only other point of notice about Aoife was the odd way that she vanished around the same time that Harry damn-his-name Potter set off to save Ginevra Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets. 

After investigating, (a hysterical Tracey Davis claimed that the girl had glowed blue and disappeared,) Severus decided that Aoife had probably mastered the Disillusionment Charm, and had simply not known that Tracey was watching as she practiced.  After all, early uses of the Disillusionment Charm often had the subject glow blue before complete mastery over the useful spell.

It was at the end of that year that Severus realized something.  Despite the fact that Aoife always had the appropriate books and supplies for her classes, nobody in Hogwarts had any idea where she lived.  Severus decided that he would watch the quill that wrote the school letters.  After all, Aoife was quickly becoming his best Potions student ever, and he had promised himself to watch out for her.

**Chapter Three – Destructiveness and Dueling**

Severus Snape watched the incoming first years of Hogwarts year 1993-1994 with a large scowl.  His summer had been absolutely atrocious.  While attempting to discover where Aoife Black lived, he had been gifted with a completely useless address.  For some reason known only to her, Aoife had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron when her Hogwarts letter was sent out. 

To make his year even worse, Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and Remus Lupin was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!  It was almost as if the fates were conspiring to make this year the worst year Severus had yet.

Severus’ belief that this year would be absolutely intolerable was proven correct as the days flew by.  Lupin had made him into a laughingstock, what with Longbottom and the boggart.  But the kicker was when a timid first year came to his quarters and knocked on his door.

“Professor?”  The small blonde (Astoria Greengrass, wasn’t she?) shifted from foot to foot.  “Aoife and Draco are dueling in the common room.”

Severus, who had been attempting to grade some second year essays on the uses of Murtlap Essence, felt a wave of fury.  It was bad enough that Draco had sent a letter to Lucius in a successful attempt to attack Hagrid, and the idiotic prank on Potter during the Quidditch match, but now he had two of his most powerful third years dueling in the common room.

Severus swept into the common room to see that he, along with all of the other Slytherins, was blockaded off from the main portion of the common room.  Draco was currently crouching behind a sofa, while Aoife threw silvery hexes that left scorch marks on the walls and sofas.

“What is this?” Severus demanded.  “Miss Black, Mr. Malfoy, what do you think you are doing?”

Aoife whirled around to face him, silvery eyes snapping viciously.  “What is happening?  _What is happening?_   I’ll _tell_ you what’s happening!  What’s happening is that my _dear_ cousin Draco is ruining the Slytherin reputation!  At this rate, Slytherins will be known for half-rated insults and par-boiled plans!  Not only that, but that rivalry with Potter _must end!_ ”

Little curls of Aoife’s hair were standing up around her head, making her look unnervingly similar to Potter in female form.  Draco snarled at Aoife.

“Why must we be nice to _Potter_?  He’s a Gryffindor, and friends with a Weasley and a Mudblood!”

Aoife drew herself up and lifted her chin.  “Perhaps the only reason you only see the irritating sides of Gryffindors is because of your own insufferable personality.  Salazar knows, the Weasleys sprouted at least two tolerable people, and Harrison James Potter will one day be an extremely powerful person in political circles.  But oh, if you want to be out on the streets in fifty years, when Potter’s Minister of Magic and the Weasley Double Act is ruling the stock market, go right on ahead.  After all, I plan on having _my_ bank accounts stay right where they are!  But I am downright sick and tired of your childish actions, toddler-style tantrums, and absolutely _infantile_ way of treating other people.  Perhaps, dearest Draco, it is _possible_ , if you grow up a tad, that you may live to adulthood in this dog-eat-dog world!”

The year only became odder and more irritating from there.  One morning, before most sane people left their beds, Severus actually saw Aoife sitting outside, _talking_ to the Dementors.

Then there was the incident with Black, Sirius Black.  The man actually had the gall to come to the Shrieking Shack, and then had the gall to claim that Peter Pettigrew was _still alive_.  Furthermore, it seemed that Potter and Lupin actually _believed_ the mutt.  That night only got worse, as Black escaped and Potter was almost Kissed.  It was then that the first of several incidents began to unfold, several suspicion-sparking incidents.

The morning after Black escaped, Severus caught Aoife speaking to the Dementors again, and this time, he eavesdropped.

“I _know_ that his connection is broken currently, but that is only because he split himself in two!  He is still your King!”

Severus was startled by this bold remark.  He wasn’t certain which shocked him more, that Aoife was on speaking terms with Dementors, or that she referred to someone as their _King_.

Before the students could leave for the train, Severus attempted to get Aoife alone, to interrogate her about where she lived.  He was foiled again, this time by an odd blonde second-year Ravenclaw who seemed to have no purpose with the real world.  Severus barely resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall as he saw his chance slip away with the two girls drifting to the carriages while conversing in Greek.  _Greek!_

 That summer only made his urge to cause damage, grow.  All of the talk in pureblood circles was about that disaster with Draco and the hippogriff, and how the infernal thing had actually gotten away before it could be killed.  Severus was beginning to wonder if his friendship with the Malfoys was worth it.  Draco was no Slytherin, despite residing in that House, Lucius was incredibly self-absorbed, and Narcissa was still mourning the loss of her friendship with her cousin Sirius.  Furthermore, they seemed to have no clue about Aoife Black, and didn’t even seem to care about her existence.

**Chapter Four – Tournament Torment**

This year’s school letter to Aoife Black turned out to be a disappointment as well; she was sleeping in the Leaky Cauldron again, albeit a different room.  Perhaps she had some pattern of visiting Diagon Alley that was impossible to figure out.

The school year of 1994-1995 began with a list.  Severus had gone over his students, and written a list of the ones that (badly) needed tutoring.  Unfortunately, the list included three of his least favorite students: _Longbottom, Neville; Potter, Harry; Weasley, Ronald_.

Irritated, Severus glared at the parchment.  Unfortunately for the inane hopeful place in the back of his head, his gaze did not cause it to burst into flames.  Deciding that he would torture the Gryffindors and give his Slytherins some fun at the same time, Severus pulled out the list of his best students: _Black, Aoife; Malfoy, Draco; Zabini, Blaise_.

***

“Harry!  What were you doing?”

Harry Potter pushed his black hair out of his face and resettled his glasses on his nose.  “What do you mean, what was I doing?” he asked, picking up his pace to catch up with his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger as they left the library.

Ron rolled his eyes, but didn’t slow down for his much smaller friend.  It was dinnertime, why was Harry being so slow?  “You were talking to Black!”

Harry sighed.  Why was Ron being so dense?  “ _Aoife_ is my Potions tutor.  Just like Malfoy is yours.  I’m _supposed_ to talk to her.  Besides, she believes that Sirius is innocent, and it’s refreshing to talk to her.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Refreshing my foot!  You do know that gossip calls her the Queen of Slytherin?”

As Harry’s two friends continued on to the Great Hall for dinner, bickering, Harry allowed a faint smile to flicker over his face.  He leaned against the wall and caught his breath.

_So, they call her the Queen of Slytherin?  Perfect._

***

“Ron, please!  Just listen to me!  I swear, I swear that I didn’t put my name in, just please, please…”

Harry collapsed to the ground in defeat as Ron Weasley fled the halls an already-moving stairwell.  Tears glittered in his eyes as he leaned against the wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching ballet to trolls.  Ron wouldn’t even look at him, and Hermione was upset at him for “not making enough effort in mending bridges.”

A pair of footsteps – one light and one heavier – drew close, spurring Harry to lift his head.  His heart simultaneously rose and sank.  His favorite and _least_ favorite Slytherins were approaching.  Namely, Aoife Black and Draco Malfoy. 

Harry shrank back into the wall, as if attempting to be unseen.  He felt absolutely horrible, and didn’t feel up to dealing with Slytherins.  Unfortunately for his hopes, Aoife’s silvery gaze pinned him, and delighted smile lit up her face.

Swiftly taking Draco’s hand, Aoife murmured something into his ear that caused the boy to look startled and flush scarlet, whispering furiously back.  Aoife smiled and placed one hand on Draco’s back, giving him a small push towards Harry. 

Harry wondered what was going on.  He doubted that it was something malicious, seeing as Aoife was not the type to treat anyone badly.

Draco took one step forward before throwing a pleading glance at Aoife, who pursued her lips and shook her head.  Draco flushed, and stumbled forwards.

“Erm… listen.  Potter…”  Draco flinched as Aoife frowned.  “Um, Harry, I well, I just wanted to tell you that I believe you, about the Goblet, I mean.”

Harry gaped.  Malfoy believed him?  _Draco Malfoy_ believed him, but not his own friends?  He looked up at his sometime-nemesis suspiciously.

“Aoife didn’t put you up to this, did she?”

Draco flushed.  “She told me to prove that I could tell the truth.  And you’re – well, you’re not as bad as _Weasley_.”

Harry bit back a smile.  “Thanks, Malfoy.”

Aoife tilted back her head and let out a gentle laugh.  “You two realize how funny this is?  The Prince of Slytherin and the Gryffindor Golden Boy!  Oh…”  Still smiling, Aoife swept down the corridors towards the nearest stairwell.

Harry looked at Draco and raised one eyebrow, Snape-style, as he stood up.  “Prince of Slytherin, huh?”

Draco flushed as brightly as a Weasley.  “What of it?”

Harry shook his head.  “Queen of Slytherin, Prince of Slytherin, is the hierarchy of Slytherin always this complicated?”

Draco snorted.  “You’ve got a tolerable sense of humor, P-Harry.”

Harry hesitated.  “Back… back when I knew nothing of the wizarding world, I insulted you entirely by accident.”  He put out his hand.  “I would like… if it is alright with you… to start over.”

Draco stared at Harry’s extended hand.  “What?”

Harry gave a little lopsided smile.  “Hello.  My name is Potter, Harry Potter.  Pleased to meet you.”

Draco seemed to be wavering for a moment, before he grasped Harry’s hand strongly.  “Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.  Pleased to meet you as well.”

The two of them walked companionably towards the Great Hall, while a silver-eyed girl smiled at them.

***

Sirius sat on the floor of the cave and threw Harry a smirk.  “Soooooo,” he said, drawing out the word, “Can I meet my niece?”

Harry grinned.  “Sure.  Sirius, meet Aoife…”

“…and when people wonder why I never come to Hogsmeade, I just say that studying is a more appropriate pastime than spilling money into the coffers of shopkeepers.”  Aoife tossed her head in a mock-arrogant pose.

Sirius laughed, and for a moment, he looked years younger.  Despite the gauntness of his face and the shadows under his eyes, spending time with Harry and Aoife lifted nearly a decade from his face.

Aoife stood, and kissed Sirius on the cheek.  “It’s been wonderful, spending time with you, Sirius.  I hope that you can be proven innocent soon.”

Sirius smiled at her, and changed into Padfoot to walk her back down to Hogsmeade.

***

Harry leaned against the fireplace, his eyes half-shut, as Hermione lectured Ron about something or another.  Oddly, it was soothing, although it might have something to do with the fact that he actually had his friends back, now that the first Task was over.

The quiet part of his mind that was Slytherin told him that Hermione and Ron weren’t the best friends to have, repeatedly.  He shook his head.

“Wait a minute, Hermione, _you’re_ a girl.”

“Oh, how _marvelous_ of you to _notice!_   So?”

“Well – well, you could go – you know, you could be my partner.”

Harry shook his head.  Ron had walked into this one.

“Oh, how _brilliant_.  It only took you _four years_ to notice!  And _no_ , I _won’t_ be your partner, because someone else was _clever_ enough to notice that I was a girl first!”

Ron turned desperately to Harry.  “Harry, you tell her.  You’re the Champion, and you need a partner, too.”

Hermione turned to Harry, ready to huff, when Harry shook his head.  Ron gaped.

“What do you mean, no?  You heard McGonagall, you need a partner!”

Harry barely kept from rolling his eyes.  “I _have_ a partner.  Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have to go find Aoife Black.  I need help with my Potions essay on the uses of Bloodweed.”

Exiting the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes.  Really, how stupid could Ron get?

***

Severus leaned against the wall, scowling ferociously.  He was certain that his glare could melt rock, he felt so furious.  Only _Dumbledore_ would _force_ him to attend some stupid event like this _Yule Ball_.

The doors opened, and the music began to play.  First to enter was the Diggory boy, with his date.  Wasn’t the girl from Ravenclaw?  Right, the bully.

Second was the Veela, ethereal in silver, nearly dragging her drooling date.  Roger Davies, Ravenclaw idiot extraordinaire.  The only boy in the school that came close to producing as much inane babbling as Cedric Diggory or Viktor Krum.

The third pair to enter was Krum and his date, and – wait.  Severus narrowed his eyes.  Was that girl…Granger?  Bushy-haired, buck-toothed, _Granger_?  Merlin, she cleaned up nicely.

And then the last pair came through.  Heads craned in an effort to see just who Potter had brought to the Ball.  It was one of the biggest pieces of gossip that would have been produced by this ridiculous affair.

Calm and cool in green-but-near-black robes, Harry had somehow gotten a hold of a pair of contact lenses, and his unnervingly unfocused green eyes were bared to the public for the first time in ages.  His hair stood up at all angles, but it looked nice, rather than messy.  Beside his date, he looked like Dark beside Light.

Her hand lightly on his arm, Potter’s date was the exact same height as he was.  Silver eyes with just the faintest brush of silver-purple eye shadow shone out of a somewhat overly pale face.  Black curls tumbled down the girl’s back, restrained only by a single diamond-studded hairclip.  Icy diamonds hung gently about her milky neck, and brilliant white dress robes bared her shoulders and back, sweeping the floor gracefully.  White silk gloves with tiny diamond buttons completed the image of an icy queen.  Aoife Black had stolen the breath of the wizarding public, and Severus doubted that she didn’t know it.  The unnaturally blank look _had_ to be hiding cunning plans, it _had_ to be.

After the first dance, Aoife drifted away from her partner.

“Good evening, Professor,” she murmured, a faint smile tilting her lips.  “Would you honor me with a dance?”

Severus barely managed to keep from gaping.  “What?”

Aoife lifted her eyes from her hems, pinning Severus with her silvery orbs.  “Harry and I agreed that we would only dance with two people and teachers, aside from each other.  He chose Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood, and I chose Draco and Blaise.  Seeing as you are the closest teacher…?”

Severus sighed, and took the extended hand.  “I’m not really supposed to dance with students,” he said quietly.

The smile on Aoife’s face grew.  “Oh, Professor!  Harry’s going to dance with his Head of House!”

As he turned Aoife around the dance floor, Severus wondered just how he got into these messes.

***

Later that evening, Harry and Aoife rejoined each other just in time for the first of many slow dances.

Resting her head on Harry’s shoulder, Aoife smiled.  “Harry?”

Harry’s face lightened briefly.  “Hm?”

Aoife lifted her head, and brushed a lock of hair from Harry’s face.  “Draco, if he grows up.”

Harry nodded.  “Luna.”

They did not dance with anyone else for the rest of the night.

***

The Second Task, Severus would later think, was the first sign that Aoife was closer to Harry than previously believed.  Somehow, after only diving into the water moments before, Harry and Aoife were struggling out, wet and waterlogged as they were.

The minutes turned into hours, as the wet teens waited for the other Champions to return from the lake.

Half an hour after the event began, Fleur Delacour was thrown abruptly out of the lake.  Because of the water streaming from her hair, it was difficult at first for the officials to realize that she was crying.

“Ma soeur!” she cried.  “Ma soeur, Gabrielle, she iz ztill undere ze vatere!”

Officials were crowding around her, and Dumbledore was murmuring that Gabrielle would be perfectly safe, when a tall woman with white-blonde hair shouted.

“Dumblidore!”

At first glance, Severus wondered if the woman was a Veela.  A second glance, however, proved that she was merely a beautiful woman.

“Es-tu fou?  Tu as mis ma toute petite, ma Gabrielle, dans un lac rempli d'êtres de l'eau?  Elle est en partie Vélane!  Les Vélanes et les êtres de l'eau sont ennemis depuis des siècles!  Elle va mourir!”

Leaning over Potter, it sounded as if Aoife Black was translating for him in a whisper.  “… insane?  You put my baby girl, my Gabrielle, into a lake with mer-people?  She is part Veela!  The Veela and mer-people have been enemies for centuries!  She will die!”

Potter straightened, his eyes wide.  Aoife grabbed his hand.  “Na!  Harry, na, don’t do it!”

Potter jutted his jaw out and whispered something angrily in Aoife’s ear.  Severus watched as Aoife went from horrified, to furious. 

“I will _not!_   You great Gryffindor idiot!  I will _not_ –” But then the rest was in a harsh whisper that Severus could not quite hear.

Twisting around the idiot in front of him, Severus attempted to lock eyes with someone close enough to the two of them to overhear what Potter and Aoife were saying.  Before he could, however, Aoife huffed, and turned away.

“ _I_ am going back inside,” she said, her face smooth.  Her eyes, however, held anger.  “Do whatever foolishness you wish, _Potter_.”

Potter flinched backwards, as if struck, while Aoife stalked away, towards the castle.

Severus frowned.  She was walking back to the castle all by herself?  But before he could wonder why she would do something foolish like that, she had turned the corner, and was gone.

Potter, meanwhile, had seated himself on the ground, drawn his wand, and was mumbling to himself with his eyes shut.

Diggory came out of the lake, clinging to that idiot Ravenclaw girl.  Chang, wasn’t she?  Severus was about to turn away when a light voice beside him gasped. 

“Oh, Harry!  How clever!  So the serpent is the tooth of the wolf, truly!”

Grimacing, Severus turned.  Sitting in the teachers’ box (how in _Merlin’s_ name did she get there?) was Luna Lovegood, possibly the only Ravenclaw that Severus did not hate.  Of course, she was also seemingly Aoife’s friend.  Anyone that the icy Slytherin associated with was probably a good ally.

Curious about what Lovegood was rambling about, (something to do with shadows of lions and basilisks inside souls,) Severus squinted at the place where Potter was sitting.

He didn’t seem to be doing anything… until, suddenly, he _glowed_ , a bright blue light that seemed to eat away at the eyes –

And then the light was gone, and Potter was muttering again, clinging to his wand –

And then the blaze was back, just as bright, and Potter said three words, clearly –

“ _Vehu Puella Volo!_ ”

The light faded… and there, collapsed across Potter’s lap, was a small, sopping, part-Veela girl.

Completely stunned – Potter had _done it_ – Severus’ jaw dropped.

“Gabrielle!”

Delacour and the woman that Severus guessed must be her mother both ran to the place where the child had collapsed all over Potter.  Potter was panting, and attempting to get the French Champion to stop peppering him with kisses.  Severus sneered.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Severus turned, with no little amount of annoyance, (he’d been sneering at one of his favorite targets!) to face Lovegood, who was smiling dreamily.

“What?” he snapped, suddenly wishing he could sew the idiot girl’s mouth shut.  Along with those freaky silvery-blue eyes. 

“It,” she breathed.  “The _Serpens Leonis_ … I think the most intriguing fact about it is its gender neutrality…”  Lovegood focused both eyes on Severus, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.  “Choose your side, _Trimorphodon biscutatus_ , for the lion is fierce in its defense and the basilisk venomous at its bite – it would not do for such a brilliant Potions Master as yourself to die.”

Severus gaped at the strange girl, who smiled, before giving a sharp gasp.

“ _CAVEO_ ,” she choked; her voice was suddenly hoarse and harsh.  “ _CAVEO VIGINTI-QUARTUS JUNE!  MALUM REVERTO!_ ”

Still gasping, Lovegood stared at him blankly for a long moment, before whirling around and sprinting away.

***

It took a couple of books to figure out what Lovegood had said – Severus wasn’t fluent in Latin.  Finally, he figured it out.

“Beware,” he murmured, tapping the piece of parchment he’d used to translate what he feared to be a prophecy.  “Beware the Twenty-Fourth of June.  Evil Returns…”

Severus stood abruptly, and began to pace.  There were large upheavals, especially in Slytherin.  If he interpreted the prophecy Lovegood had given correctly, that meant that there was a deadline for choosing sides of this dratted war.

And not only that, but there was also what she had said before.  Even he, as bad as he was at Latin without a dictionary, knew that Serpens Leonis meant Serpent-Lion.  The gender thing, he had briefly written off to Lovegood’s odd ways, but had taken note of in any case, it might be important later.

A _Trimorphodon biscutatus_ is a snake that is venomous, but only mildly so.  Addressing him as such, especially in conjunction to a lion and a basilisk…

A rap on his door interrupted his musings.  Resisting the urge to snarl, Severus stalked to the door.  “What?”

A second year (Peasegood, he thought,) was quivering in the doorway.  Why did they _always_ quiver and shake like pudding?  It was _so_ annoying.

“S-Sir,” the boy stuttered.  “S-Sir, th-there’s a-a-a d-duel in th-the c-c-c-c-common room.”

Severus bit off what he was going to say before he said it, and swept out the door.  _What now?_

_BOOM!_   The walls shook as _something_ exploded in the Slytherin Common Room.  Severus sped up.

Standing in several corners of the Common Room, handfuls of Slytherins were throwing curses at the girl who was currently causing the explosions.  Said girl was presently surrounded in a pillar of blazing blue light that was crackling and roaring like a firestorm.

“What is _going on?_ ” Severus hissed, glaring at all present.

One of the girls (who were cowering in a corner but _not_ throwing hexes,) spoke up.  “Montague said that she should be strangled for being Potter’s person he would miss the most.  Aoife ignored him until he and his cronies attacked her.”

Just as suddenly as it began, the blue light vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence.  With a faint crackling sound, Aoife’s hair settled on her shoulders, and she surveyed the room with something that could be labeled amusement.

“You’ll have to choose as side, soon,” she whispered, her silver-grey eyes gleaming in the moon-like paleness of her face.  “The end days are drawing closer, the piece to its crescendo, and then shall we all lift our instruments and join the grand finish.”

Without another word, she swept from the room, leaving every Slytherin feeling oddly breathless. 

***

_“Kill the spare_.”

“No!”  Harry dove forward, tumbling to the ground on top of Cedric Diggory.  But his sharp movement, while fast, was not fast enough.  The body beneath him was hard and cold, and Harry’s desperate attempt to save Cedric had left him with his back exposed.

“ _Stupefy_.”

When Harry woke up, he was tied to a large, angel-shaped gravestone.  _It’s all very gothic,_ he mused, taking as good a look around the graveyard as he could with cracked glasses.

“Bone of the father…” Pettigrew was droning, and Harry could feel himself beginning to panic.  _No!_

**_/A2B?/_ **

**_/B2AC1/_ **

**_/1?/_ **

**_/1/_ **

“Blood of the enemy…”

Harry barely flinched as his skin was pierced.  His mind was running swiftly now, his magic humming under his skin like a vibrating cell phone.  It was so difficult not to scream, or explode, or… anything but stay tamely tied up.

A hiss of stream attracted his attention, and Voldemort was there, all white and bony.

/ ** _Yk/_**

**_/I2/_ **

Voldemort ranted, and called his “faithful” Death Eaters (it was hard not to snicker as Harry watched them act like obedient puppy dogs). 

“Give him his wand… we shall duel.”

Harry stood, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.  Wand in hand, he grimaced as Voldemort forced him to bow, and ten ducked a Cruciatus Curse.  No way was he going to get hit with that!

To the onlooker, it seemed as if, for a moment, Harry Potter glowed blue.  Then, his balance seemed to even out, his deftness become even more astonishing and swiftly sharp.

Spells flashed, awing the surrounding Death Eaters – they’d all believed that Potter was a bumbling fool, but this boy… he actually seemed to be a worthy enemy.

But all luck runs out, and Harry didn’t duck _quite_ swiftly enough to escape one of Voldemort’s Cruciatus Curses –

His screams were eerie, with a double voice, high and low colliding in a way that made each and every Death Eater shiver –

And then he broke away, stumbling weakly over to Diggory’s body.  But why?  Many Death Eaters were confused by this rather stupid move.  Now Potter was directly in their Lord’s line of sight.

Potter grabbed the corpse, and threw himself to the ground to avoid a curse.  Still shaking from the Cruciatus Curse, the teen flared bright blue.   The light was strange, and it cast odd shadows. 

Voldemort snarled, and lifted his wand to curse Harry once more, but Harry threw himself to the ground again.  Lifting his wand, he gasped out one word.

“ _Revenio!_ ”

He blazed blue once more – and vanished.

***

In the stands, people shifted uneasily.  From his place in the teachers’ box, Severus could only hope that this ridiculous tournament would soon be over.  Suddenly, a Patronus moved beside his seat.  It was a phoenix – Dumbledore’s Patronus.

“Mr. Potter has vanished.  Meet me immediately.”

Sighing, (it wasn’t like he was doing anything important,) Severus made his way out of the teachers’ box.  He was halfway to the judges’ box, and Dumbledore, when a young girl crashed into him.

“What – Miss Lovegood!”

Luna Lovegood grabbed his arm.  “Aoife vanished, sir.  Truly, she just faded a –” She stopped, and her eyes grew white.  The blonde Ravenclaw reeled, gripping Severus’ arm tightly.

“ _FINIS ENIM DIES VENIUNT ... MUSICA MURMUR SUBIIT ... TEMPUS MEUM SERPENS ELIGERE ... AETAS NOSTRA LEVARE INSTRUMENTA PERFICERE MAGNAM ... TEMPUS AUTEM POST ALIQUOT DIES VENIT ..._ ”

Severus stared at the odd girl for a long moment, but his startled musings were interrupted by a choked gasp.  “What?”

Severus whirled.  (He was very good at that.)  “Longbottom,” he snapped at the shocked-looking boy.  “What.”

Longbottom took a shaky breath, licked his lips, and said, “Sir… I know Latin, Gran taught me.  She… Luna said, ‘ _THE END DAYS ARE COMING... THE MUSIC HAS REACHED THE CRESCENDO... IT IS TIME, MY SERPENT, TO CHOOSE... TIME HAS COME TO LIFT OUR INSTRUMENTS FOR THE GRAND FINISH... THE TIME OF THE END OF DAYS HAS COME..._ ’  Th-that’s all.”

“Neville… what happened?”  The Lovegood girl was looking around confusedly.  “One second, I was getting the Professor to help me find Aoife, but then… I’m sorry, Professor.”

A strange shimmer of blue light drew the attention of the populace to the spot where the triumphant winner was supposed to appear.  There, in the square of dead grass, was a bloodied and exhausted Harry Potter, clinging to a corpse.


	2. Black Family Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my head-canon Black Family Tree. It is almost perfectly canonical.


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